


This World Has Only One Sweet Moment Set Aside for Us

by Elywyngirlie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Highlander AU, Hux - Freeform, PHASMA - Freeform, Sword Fighting, True love thwarted, star crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-14 17:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elywyngirlie/pseuds/Elywyngirlie
Summary: There are only two Immortals left in the world: Kylo Ren and Rey.True lovers, torn apart by the centuries, by strife, by war, by the Rules. Together, now, the last of their kind.But the Rules declare that there can be only one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love Highlander and Queen. 
> 
> And my husband showed me the video for Who Wants to Live Forever (from which the title is taken). A beautiful, gorgeous, lyrically enchanting piece of work. Check it out. It inspired this story.

The time had come, it seemed. 

It was only him and her. It had always appeared as if it would go in that direction, he thought ruefully. When they were both children in the academy, when they both felt the quickening of the power--when their paths had crossed throughout the centuries. 

He’d never admit that he still remembered with painstaking detail the red dress she had worn in Louis the Sun King’s court: the way the red silk draped off her lithe figure; how the deep cut of neckline at time gave tantalizing hints of her nipples, (oh how that taunted him); how elegant and tempting a figure she cut on the dance floor.  How her bright eyes, heightened by gold painted lids, caught his across the room. A tilt of her regal head. An acknowledgment of him. A recognition that he would chase her across countries and continents and wide swaths of years. 

To this moment. 

The lightning cracked in the dry air but the rain refused to come. She stood across from him, the wind whipping her coat around her slender figure. The remains of his last opponent, a streak of ash on the concrete platform, the body soon to be outlined in chalk. He hadn’t meant for her to witness this fight. 

“It’s just down to the two of us, is it,” she remarked casually, as if asking him if rain were likely. 

“Why are you here?” he called, betrayed by the thickening of his voice. “I thought you were in Thailand.”

“I was. But you know the Rules. As we Immortals decrease in number, we are drawn to the Prize.” Her gaze flickered to the body of Estefu Lasoreu. 

“Is it this then? Just the two of us?” His question was swallowed by a howl of wind and he planted his feet. He didn’t want it to go this way. He just wanted his right to rule. He was born to it. The most dangerous Immortal on the planet, trained by Alphonesus Snoke, once the most revered Immortal and First Teacher, until he had slain him. 

For her. 

For Rey. 

She continued on as if ignoring him: “I hear you go by Kylo Ren now. Working as a journalist.”

“And are you still Rey?” A faint smile, her lips darkened by red lipstick, a slash against her pale features, was her only response. His shoulders slumped, but his grip tightened on his sword. 

“We don’t have to do this, Rey,” he cajoled and she tilted her head. 

A memory, then, flashed through him (and through her, but she gave no sign of it). They were children together in Luke Skywalker’s academy. Ben Solo, of the Organa Solos, should not have been playing with his laird’s ward. But Rey had always been a bright and engaging child.  Together they roamed over heath and heather, exploring his land--well, soon to be his land--and finding every brook and cave and ancient tree. It was a simpler time, the threat of the English not yet near. Luke agreed to teach them both, an eccentricity allowed the revered warrior. Their mornings would be spent in lessons, their afternoons spent exploring. 

Until a change came over her. Her breasts began to bud. Her hazel eyes would often dart away from him, a shy smile blooming on her face.  She was growing quickly into a young woman--soon she would be someone’s wife and mother. And he found that idea insupportable. 

Lady Leia found a suitable husband--Connor--a local shepherd. They were to be married near midsummer. Ben found himself burning, fists pummeling into furniture, his fury rending trees into kindling. Connor was a quiet lad. All he wanted was a family, a wife to tend his stead, and a good, healthy flock. 

But Rey--Ben knew Rey wanted more. When Luke told them of his visits to Rome, to the ancient ruins, he could see her eyes light up. She asked piles of questions about taxation and governance and literature--her readings were precise and careful. She could read and write. She didn’t belong to a shepherd. She should rule, like him. Next to him. As his wife. 

So he killed Connor. The shepherd was a greater swordsman than he should have been. Ben’s body was racked with pain, freely bleeding, his death near at hand. He knew he would triumph, he would free Rey. He would strive for that, no matter the consequence. But the moment his swore cleaved Connor’s head from his body, a lightning storm raged, slicing into Ben, filling him with a knowledge and a strength. 

And as he slumped to the ground, chest heaving, eyes askance, Luke slowly came down the hill, a solemn look on his features. 

“You have been Chosen,” was all he would say. And Rey, Rey stared at him, hands fisting in Connor’s shirt, eyes narrowed, her body shaking. Ben ignored his uncle. 

“You are mine,” he stated. 

“I can’t be a dead man’s bride,” she snarled, tears sliding down her face and dripping off her chin. She sobbed. Ben reached for her. 

“I will always be here for you, Rey,” he promised. But then he was whisked away to his new future. 

He was reminded of those tear filled eyes now, at the roof of the skyscraper, at the end of the Immortals’ Time. But now those eyes were filled with a harsh determination. 

“So what’s it going to be, Ben? We have before us two paths.”

“Do we?” 

Rey lifted her chin. “You once said that I was yours. And that you would do anything for me.”

Kylo smiled, wolfish teeth in a war hungry mouth. “I also said you were mine.” She smiled back, cold and foreboding. “But you had me galavanting after you over the centuries.” 

“That’s not true. We did have those few lovely years in Florence.”

“Ah, yes, before you left me for another man. And you couldn’t even give me the courtesy of leaving a letter.”

She sniffed. “It was clear that you were going to die. I was nearly burned at the stake for being a witch once. I didn’t want that experience again, thank you very much.” 

Kylo chuckled and leaned against a support beam. They stood in the skeletal construction of the last three floors of the largest skyscraper in Manhattan. It seemed fitting, somehow. 

“You can win, Ben,” she called and Kylo shook his head. 

“That is not my name.” 

She smiled then, a quick flick of her lips, sad and lost. “You were always Ben to me.” 

“That boy is dead. He has been for over five centuries now.” 

“But I saw him. In your face. In those mornings when I woke up next to you. During those nights Don’t you remember them?” Rey’s voice was coaxing, haunting, and he wasn’t unaware that she was walking toward him as she spoke, her arm behind her back. 

By the gods yes, he could remember those nights. Those glorious nights when he finally, one hundred and fifty years later, discovered her alive, a muse to artists in Renaissance Florence. Her joy had been just as effervescant as his and she had tumbled happily into his bed. He had her every morning, every evening, and sometimes in the afternoon, her dress hiked up, her ass on his desk, and his face buried between her thighs. Or sometimes, her nails digging into his desk, unable to hide her moans, as he plunged into her from behind.

He had tasted the sweetest fruit and had been left with a mouth of ashes the evening he returned home and found her gone. Only a piece of heather left on their pillows, a lock of her hair as the ribbon. 

He burnt it that night. 

“You changed, once you became an Immortal, Rey,” he replied. He raised his sword and leveled it at her. “The girl I knew was gone. You became avaricious, vicious, cunning.”

“I did what I needed to in order to survive!” she barked at him, fury darkening her brow. “You can’t understand what it was like to be a woman then. I had no freedom. Always shackled to a man!”

“You could have been with me. I would have been your husband through the ages.” It was a proposal then, and they both knew it. It was not the first time he had declared his love for her. Once, as children, in a field of purple heather, as his hands lifted her skirts for the first time, his fingers exploring her petal soft quim, as she trembled beneath him. The second, in Florence, as the morning sun teased the golden highlights in her hair, her nipples growing pert in his hands, his mouth hungering for every inch of flesh as she rode him with an aching slowness. 

And now. Now this. A compromise.

No reason for them both to die. The Rules would require that they spend their lives together, anyways. Until another Immortal appeared. Or they killed one another. Those were the choices. 

And as they gazed at one another, her hazel eyes gone a steely gray, he knew which choice she would make. Rather rule than be a subject again. It wasn’t a bad way to go, he reflected. He had made many mistakes as an Immortal at first, trying to assert his rule until his multiple deaths taught him to lead a quiet life. 

“So it is to be battle,” he whispered. She nodded. 

“I, Rey, challenge Kylo Ren, for the last true battle of the Prize.” And she lifted her sword, rushing him then. He had expected the attack and stepped away, parrying it with a flick of his wrist. She thrust up and he feinted to the left, blade tearing through the arm of her jacket. She swore and leapt back at a few steps. 

“Come on, Rey,” he pleaded. “Wouldn’t it be better to be together? We don’t really need to rule do we?”

She laughed, a harsh biting sound. “You say that now. But the power will beckon, it always did.” 

Kylo chuckled. “Not as much as your sweet body does.” He swore he could see the blush stealing up her cheeks as a clap of lightning tore through the sky. She sliced toward him then, a blur of movement, and he slashed down, metal clanging as they chopped away at each other for a few moments. The sky began to spit rain at them and Kylo’s shoe slid in a puddle. She seized the moment, blade cuffing him for a moment, a nick in his neck, that he blocked before it bit too deeply. 

A trickle of blood slipped beneath his sweater and he glared at her, panting. 

“I can’t believe you did that!” Her wide eyes told him that she couldn’t either. But determination settled over her then and she raised her blade. 

Clapping, ironic and slow, stopped her. Kylo looked over his shoulder and seethed. Armitage Hux, his red hair wild in the wind, a maniacal gleam in his blue eyes. 

“I thought you were dead,” he grumbled. 

“And I was,” Hux answered. “But not true death. No, that little injury you gave me didn’t quite cut off my head. Next time, you should stay and finish the job.”

“Couldn’t. Mobs with torches,” Kylo shot back. Rey moved from Kylo, turning to face Hux. The redhead gave her an appraising look. 

“Well, it seems like we three are the only ones standing.” He cast a spiteful glance over Estefu’s body. “I can’t believe he survived this long. He was a complete idiot.”

“I could say the same for you,” Rey replied. She moved closer to Kylo, a clear united front, and Hux smirked. 

“I always wondered if it would come down to the three of us.”

“I didn’t. I assumed Phasma would kill you long before I could,” Kylo remarked, not quite nastily. Hux snarled. 

“I assure you, I took care of her several decades ago. The sixties were bad for women. Gave them too many ideas.” He looked at Rey, then, and sniffed. “I imagine you enjoyed it, you little minx. I remember when  Newton was the only thing that saved you from being strung up due to your love of science.” 

“True happiness is found in equality, especially in those one love. If you love women but are a misogynist, you’ve got a bit of a problem, mate,” Rey bit back. Hux shrugged. 

“I don’t hate women; I hate everybody. And I intend to claim the Prize.”

“You shouldn’t rule over a fish, much less humanity,” Kylo argued. The wind tangled his coat between his legs, his hair lashing at his face. Hux chuckled darkly and looked away, gaze roaming over the city. 

“You’ve no idea how many years I’ve longed to crush you under my heel, Ren,” he murmured. Seizing her moment, Rey darted forward. But Hux, lithe and light Hux, twisted, his sword out from his coat, smashing her blade down and following through with a strong uppercut. She stumbled back, blood dribbling down her chin. 

Hux barely had a chance to smirk before Kylo dashed at him, sword flashing as lightning forked through the sky. An answering clang as Hux’s sword bit into his momentum and Kylo kicked out. Hux jumped back and slashed forward. With a shout, Kylo rushed at him, sword swinging wildly. Hux tried  to block the onslaught of blows, blades singing as they swished to the air, grunting as some slipped through his defence and sliced his arms and torso. 

He twisted away as Kylo’s sword bit into his shoulder. As he cried out, Kylo glaring triumphantly, a knife slid between Kylo’s ribs. Kylo gasped, breath stuttering in his throat, and he fell away, feet moving unsteadily between him. Hux wheezed, raising his head, fist in his gut to stave the bleeding.  Triumph curled around his narrow lips when a blade flashed as lightning fractured the air around them. The sword cleaved through his neck and Hux’s head rolled to the ground. 

Rey stood panting, crimson covered chin darker in the flickering lights. A moment later, the sky rumbled and her body shook as power raced through her, Hux’s Quickening filling her with his knowledge and powers. Kylo covered his face as he heard her cry out from the power flooding her system. 

A moment later, he heard her gasp and fall to her knees. Thunder rumbled in a low roll and the rain evolved into soft beads that kissed the dry earth. He stared at her as she braced herself to stay up, chest heaving as she tried to calm her racing heart.  

She looked over at him and he grimaced. He could see power flickering behind her eyes, the desire so thick and heady. Pain tore through him and he wondered how deeply Hux’s knife had cut into him. He longed to tear it but kept it in to stop the bleeding. He wouldn’t have much longer anyways. 

He watched Rey rise unsteadily to her feet. She picked up her sword, the metal scraping as it dragged along the concrete. She closed her eyes, knuckles whitening as her grip tightened on the handle. Kylo blew out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness that enveloped him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and the comments! 
> 
> This might actually be an explicit rating ;) 
> 
> The Game: What Immortals must play to claim the prize

Rey briskly washed her hands, fingers shaking off the tepid water. The apartment wasn’t luxurious but she needed some place to escape. She tossed the cool water on her face and patted it dry with a towel, staring at her reflection in the mirror. 

Despite being an Immortal, her body did show signs of stress. Skin sagged under her eyes, a bruised purple color, and exhaustion blurred her edges. Her hair was a wispy mess and she ran a brush through it quickly before tying it into her favored three buns hairstyle. She remembered Leia twining her hands in her hair centuries ago, showing her simple hairstyles that her clumsy young fingers could manage. 

Rey exited the bathroom, gathering up the supplies, and went to check on her patient. Kylo was stretched out on her full size bed, his massive frame eating up most of the space. His breath was shallow but steady; his body was slowly healing the damage that Hux had done to him. As an Immortal, it would be only a few hours before Kylo was fully healed. 

And then Rey would need to decide what to do. 

The Rules demand that she end it and claim the Prize. This is what the Immortals had been fighting toward for millenia. But this had never been her goal. Ruling the world and possessing ultimate knowledge, quite frankly, sounded like a bore. If she could have it all, what would the reason to go on be? Exploring and learning and slipping through lives like a fish in water were like oxygen to her; to have it all would be to make her life a waste. 

But she didn’t want to die, either. 

She sank into a chair by the bed and watched him, memories washing over her. She still remembered their first night together, in the heather, a cool summer day. Fluffy clouds drifted across the sky and a breeze ruffled the grass tickling her feet. They had snuck away after Luke’s lesson; a dangerous knowledge, something he couldn’t teach, was growing between her and Ben Solo, the son of her laird. 

She knew there was some sort of tension between them. She could see the way his eyes would drop to her breasts. She could feel his heated gaze as she swept her hair to the side or when she lifted her skirts to jump on stones to cross a brook. She knew there was some sort of knowledge and desire in that gaze. 

So she decided to explore it. 

They sat in a meadow, teasing each other, freshly picked blackberries in her lap. He grinned impishly and reached into her lap to pluck one from her pile. She gave a mock gasp and he leered at her. They were playing around the edges of dangerous territory. She saw his dark gaze flicker down to her lips and away again, his tongue rolling along the edge of the blackberry before he bit down. His ears turned red. 

Impatient, Rey sighed and tugged him toward her. He half fell, hands bracing at the last moment before his face fell into her lap. Laughing, full of confidence that she couldn’t quite understand, some sort of knowledge about what was going to transpire, Rey put her finger under his chin and lifted his face up. His blush grew and she felt boldness surge through her. She bent her head and let her lips touch his for one brief moment. 

But it was Ben who took control. His hands fisted in her hair, his mouth a ravenous thing that sought her lips again and again. It was his tongue that begged entrance at her mouth, soft and sweet, tart juices from the berries lingering, as his tongue touched the tip of hers, flicking and tasting, hands lifting up her skirt to skim her legs. 

Rey moaned and hastily tossed the rest of the blackberries aside. A part of her knew that she could not continue down this path. Leia had chosen a husband for her; she needed to be pure for him. Then Ben’s lips caressed hers, a whisper of her name ghosting across her cheek, a cascade of compliments as he carded her hair and tugged at the laces on her dress so that he could drink in her breasts with eyes and then mouth. 

A fierce possessiveness took hold of her and she reached into his trousers, small hand fisting around his cock, hard and long and sure. She wanted him to fill her up, wanted to have him spill inside of her, again and again. She wanted him to take her maidenhood and she babbled this all to him as his teeth grazed her nipple, his fingers parting the folds between her legs. 

“Patience,” he counseled,fingers stroking and massaging, until he found a hard nub at the apex of her thighs. Her mouth dropped open and a whine escaped. She never knew she could make this sound, never knew heat could pool with such intensity between her legs, until she was bucking up to meet his skilled fingers, moans competing with his ragged breath, his eyes wide until she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as something large and beautiful swept through her. 

She didn’t understand what had happened to her until the 17th century and she joined the academy of sciences in Paris, disguised as a boy. But those thoughts had not existed yet as Ben lifted his fingers from her, glistening with her slick, and licked each one clean. 

She belonged to him as clearly as he belonged to her. 

She expected him to fight his parents, to whisk her away for a secret ceremony and to their wedding night. That they would flee to Europe and explore the ruins that Luke had expounded on in so many of their lessons. She had not expected him to kill Connor. Sweet, kind Connor who just wanted a wife and children, who didn’t understand that she had dreams beyond him. 

Rey had been devastated when Han finally explained the truth of what happened that night that Connor was killed. She fled the holding, searching for her own way to become an Immortal. To be with Ben forever, as they had promised each other that midsummer eve. 

Kylo groaned and writhed on the bed. This was normal from an Immortal coming back from a death. She got up and headed into the kitchen to make a full english breakfast as well as coffee. By the time she was done, she expected him to be up.

As she plated the mushrooms, putting the skillet into the sink, she heard the floors creak. Kylo padded in, slowly, unsteadily, before collapsing onto the sole chair of her dining room set. 

“Got any coffee?” he croaked. Swallowing a smile, she put a mug full of cream and sugar in front of him. Kylo drank all in one swallow before digging into the breakfast. Rey sipped her own coffee as she watched him plow through the food. Finally, he wiped his mouth and shoved the plate away. His color was better and he looked stronger, if somewhat odd in unbuttoned slacks and sans shirt. She could see the new scar that would develop from Hux’s blade, twisting around his torso.

“You didn’t kill me,” he stated calmly. He got up to pour himself another coffee. Outside a garbage truck blared its horn, only to be answered in kind by a half dozen cars. He gestured toward the window behind her. “We’re still in the city.”

“I still haven’t found a way to transport a mostly dead body easily,” Rey breezily replied. Kylo gifted her with a small grin, her heart slamming into her chest. But worry crept into his eyes and she looked down into her mug. 

“Do you remember that afternoon...in the meadow?”

“How could I forget?” His voice was huskier than she would have thought. She refused to look up. She could not meet his gaze. 

“The taste of you still lingers on my tongue; I wake up with the flavor of you on my lips.” A shudder racked through her then and she could feel that familiar heat beginning to build. She tried to ignore it. 

“Do you think we really are the only ones left?” She had to be practical, her questions had to be practical. Kylo’s eyes never left her, roving over her body, imprinting her with their heat. 

“We might be,” was his noncommittal response. The low rumble of his voice rugged at something low in her belly and she closed her eyes, head lifting up. He did not disappoint; she heard his feet on the tile, before his breath, hot and sweet from the coffee, skate across her face. He took her face in his hands, thick and strong fingers brushing at the circles under her eyes. 

This time he kissed first, a slow and aching one, like a dying man seeing the light for the first time. She leaned into him and his arm encircled her, pulling her close to him. His heat crashed into her and she moaned. 

“Let’s pretend we aren’t the last ones,” she begged as he took the time to kiss every freckle that dotted her cheeks. 

“I’ve got a better idea,” Kylo said as he kissed the hollow in her throat. He hoisted her onto the counter and she wrapped her legs around the waist. He was stronger than he had been in Florence and her fingers raced over his muscles with glee, each press of lips on his skin a taste she wanted to savor for eons. 

“Tell me,” she managed to say as he tugged at her shirt hem. She quickly tossed off the shirt and almost had to blush. It was years since she had done that, but the hunger in his eyes as he pushed down the lace cups of her bra pulled at her. The same intensity that had urged her forward in the meadow centuries ago possessed her then and she arched into his grasp. He did not disappoint, giving a low groan that filled the kitchen as he caressed her breasts. He closed his eyes, a man in prayer, as if aware the great gift God was bestowing. 

“I’ll retire,” he haltingly said. “I can do that, the Game will stop until another Immortal emerges.” And he dipped his head, teeth grazing her pert nipple and Rey mewled, rocking her hips forward to meet his. Greedily, her hands dived into his trousers and found him hard and waiting. The memories of Florence flooded her then and she knew how he would take her. Here and now, without patience, rough and full, and by gods, she wanted it. 

Rey gasped: “yes” and Kylo knew what she meant. With a snarl, he tore at her trousers, Immortal strength aiding him as sheets of fabric fell to the ground. 

“Thank the gods we don’t have so many layers anymore,” she ground out as he slipped his hand inside her panties and calloused fingers found her wet and soft and eager for him. 

“I don’t know, taking them off could be quite fun.” The tips of his ears went red and Rey gave a gentle smile. But words between them were over now and the passion during the centuries overrode any sensibilities. He stepped out of his trousers and she braced herself on her forearms, his mouth devouring one breast after another, tongue teasing until she snaked her hand between them and tried to release her building tension. 

He pulled her hand away, only to replace it with his own, before sliding himself inside of her. Rey clung to his shoulders, almost weeping, as their joining was rough and needy, teeth nipping as their lips sought each other out until they had wrung all the pleasure they could from each other.  
This was how it was supposed to be, bodies rejoicing as they found each other again. 

And as they lay entwined together on the kitchen floor, fingers laced together, Kylo offered her a crooked smile. 

“Don’t you think this game is much more fun?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the original ending was that Kylo and Rey were both badly injured and that Kylo told Rey to kill him so she could gain his strength and defeat Hux.


End file.
